The Golden Dawn
by Insomniz
Summary: Inspired by Ducks in Space, an au where Scrooge McDuck's a space pirate and is purchased by his nephew, Donald Duck, a space cop in the Space Marine. Donald thought taking again his space marine duty would be easier now that the famous space pirate Scrooge McDuck had disappeared from all newspapers' titles. He was so wrong. (Rated K because of violence, blood and vulgar language)
1. Chapter 1

**Hi and welcome to _The Golden Dawn_!  
**

 **Before all things i would like to thank you all for the welcoming my first chapter of Feels Bucket received! We're around 700 views... I had never had so much views, even with all my old fanfics together. So, yeah, thank you all for reading and leaving reviews! It really encourages me to continue. And overall thanks to cirilee who made an awesome fanart and helped in its gain of popularity!**

 **This time will be different given that i plan on writing a whole fanfic with many chapters, a fanfic that will be staging an au that cirilee created: Ducks in Space, or the Space AU. You can check our fanarts and headcanons on our tumblrs _cirilee_ and _insomniz_ by searching #space au or #ducks in space. Now, enough on the advertising.  
**

 **You don't know the space au? No probs, here's little explanations.**

 **Shortly, imagine Scrooge being the most (in)famous space pirate of all times, purchased by his nephew who's a space cop in the space marine. Lots of space, yeah. I won't tell you more, just that you will be dealing with some tragic backstories, some angst and maybe some blood. So really be prepared.**

 **Edit** **: The first chapter has been drastically changed to the better, and this thanks to my friend Lu! They're the best corrector I could ever dream of and they really respect the original idea...  
**

 **If you want to check their tumblr (and you surely want to do that because they're the best and purest person on Earth), it's _draaaaaagoooooons_ (with six a and six o... seriously Lu). **

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To say Fenton Crackshell admired First Lieutenant Duck was a serious understatement.

Donald Duck, which was his full name, so high-ranked in the Space Marine, was the space seaman's roll model, his idol. But who could blame him ? All the lower-ranked Marines on their secretly blushed when they crossed paths with the famous Lieutenant.

His righteous gait, low voice and stern glance, to his gloomy appearance and the scar zigzagging across his cheek under his eyepatch that hid his blind left eye. With his insignias-adorned chest, his mantle floating behind him, and the cigarette always at his lips wrapping his surroundings in tendrils of smoke, he almost looked like a caricatural grumpy inspector.

Granted, he was sometimes impatient, harsh with the space sailors he had to guide. Rumors had it that he had become a sour and acrimonious man after what had happened to him. But that had no impact on the praise Fenton always found to describe his superior.

Moreover, and to add to Fenton's despair, he was quite handsome. This was to his despair indeed, it was because he could not help himself: his cheeks burned red every time he thought about his First Lieutenant. It did feel nice to think about him, but at the same time it was so embarrassing... But no one could deny that his single blue eye, his blond hair and his muscular silhouette were pleasing to look at, and especially not Fenton. The Lieutenant was Fenton's opposite; he himself was latino, with crazy brown hair and a halo of almost invisible freckles scattered across his cheeks and nose under bright hazelnut eyes. Even though Fenton only knew the infamous Marine through rumors and hearsay, he could tell their personalities contrasted greatly.

Above all Fenton was but a humble space sailor, a rookie at its finest; he was nothing in comparison to the blond First Lieutenant. And the fact that some time ago a simple space sailor - like him - had gone by the name and rank "Private Duck" was near unbelievable to him. He couldn't see him any differently from the bold, experienced man he was today. He was so high-ranked, compared to Fenton...

First Lieutenant was almost the highest rank on their spaceship, barely under the Captain. Of course there were the generals, towering above the Space Marine hierarchy, but Fenton doubted he'd ever encounter one. As a plain space sailor, he wasn't even allowed to battle against pirates yet, except if things were really looking bad. He did chores most of the time, attending the compulsory training sessions without knowing if he'd ever use his sword. He only saw First Lieutenant Duck from far away on the ship, and when he encountered him in the hallway, he tried - and mostly failed - not to stare too openly.

So when he met the Lieutenant in the controls room this morning, he didn't believe his luck and tried not to faint when the blond space seaman raised his only eye towards him. His gaze was navy blue, a darkened ultramarine. The other one was hidden as always; no one on the ship had ever seen it, except for the nurse who had healed him immediately after the fight that cost him half his fight. Fenton just assumed he had a faded iris, somehow clearer. But he had to sop staring at his eyepatch, he knew how it annoyed the First Lieutenant.

The latino seaman had been chosen to replace some First Class to monitor the ship's radar, but no one had told him he'd be doing it in the presence of the First Lieutenant...

Fenton tried to keep his composure and almost forgot to salute him in the process.

\- First Lieutenant Duck, I'm Priva-

\- Private Crackshell, yes, I know, he replied, lowering his eyes again on the map he was studying.

Trying hard not to blush at the fact that the First Lieutenant knew his name, Fenton cleared his throat.

\- I'm here to survey the radar.

\- Very well. Please, have a seat. The radar's right there.

Fenton sat mechanically, unable to fully concentrate since the Lieutenant was just a few feet away from him, studiously examining his maps and tracing itineraries on them. The radar was silent and there was no trace of danger on it. All was calm in the endless sea of darkened skies. Fenton turned to the Lieutenant as he kept working diligently.

\- I heard the officers talk about you, Crackshell, First Lieutenant Duck suddenly said without raising his eyes from the map. You're the mathematics genius, right?

Fenton was startled by the question. Not only had the Lieutenant heard about him, but he also considered him a mathematics genius... That was way too much to handle, and Fenton couldn't answer without stuttering.

\- I- F-First Lieutenant, I-

\- You can call me Donald. And you're?

\- Fenton, sir- i mean Donald. And i'm no genius. I just find it easy to understand computers, all these things, is all...

\- Well, Fenton, this is really helpful, Donald conceded. But i never saw you train at swordfighting ? Mathematics are important, but fighting is as well, for the space officers that we are.

\- I train everyday, but i have to admit I'm not very good. Not as good as you, First Li- Donald. I saw you fight last time we had a battle against pirates. No one can knock out so many pirates like you do!

Fenton realized only then he must have sounded like an excited fanboy - which he totally was. First Lieutenant Duck was obviously going to have to remind him of the proper manners to be had when addressing with a superior.

But much to Fenton's surprise, Donald's reaction was to burst out into laughter. It wasn't a mocking laugh, rather a amused one. Fenton was shocked to discover that the usually gloomy Lieutenant could smile and laugh. But it was true he had been really nice to him since he walked into the room. He certainly wasn't like this with the other space sailors.

\- Don't be so harsh on yourself. You're still a fresh space seaman. You still have a lot to learn... We all begin at the same point. It's by never giving up that only the best emerge. And i don't deserve such compliments...

His glance wandered away from his maps and finally met Fenton's.

\- I could give you some advice if you're interested. Maybe we could train together?

Fenton's heart missed a beat upon hearing these words. Was he dreaming? If it was a dream, the seaman wished he'd never wake up. But this didn't seem to be a dream. His heart wouldn't be beating so fast right now.

His highest superior wanted to train with him. He felt way up high on a little cloud, floating into pure joy and disbelief.

\- I don't want to waste your time...

\- It wouldn't be wasted. I always enjoy fighting, and i still need training as well.

The latino space seaman let his gaze focus on the sword laid near the Lieutenant. It was Donald's, Fenton had recognized it immediately. Every time he fought with it, the neon triangle around his wrist flickered into existence and his sword lit up with a violet-pink glow. He handled it expertly, like it was an extension of his own body. He was quick and nimble, deadly if he wanted to. Fenton was always inspired when he saw him fight. He made it seem almost as easy as sailing.

But reality was truly otherwise. Fenton was as flexible as a stick of wood and moved with the speed of a snail. More often than not, his opponent had no problem striking him, while Donald did the opposite: ending the fight in a few swift seconds, already winning.

Rumors claimed that it was the man's pirate uncle himself who had taught him how to fight. The infamous Scrooge McDuck was the richest and the most daring of all pirate Captains. He was a delicate topic on the spaceship, and nobody dared to mention him anywhere near the First Lieutenant Duck.

But Fenton, who had never met the pirate in person - thank the stars, or he wouldn't be in this world anymore - only knew him through the seamen's gossip and whispers. Word had it that even First Lieutenant Duck couldn't win a fight against him. After all, it was from his own uncle's sword that he got the scar he was always hiding... Rumors said a lot about Scrooge McDuck. They said his entire space ship was made of gold, that his crew reflected his character: merciless, frightening and only interested in money. They could kill a man without a qualm, just for the promise of loot.

They said Scrooge McDuck was the worst of all and that he wouldn't hesitate to go so far as to hurt even his own crew.

Fenton was more than curious and burning to ask Donald questions about him, but that was by far the worst thing to do. The last time a sailor had murmured "nephew of Scrooge McDuck" as Donald passed by near him, he was almost thrown overboard.

\- Can I ask you something, Donald?

\- Sure thing, the superior officer replied with a stiff smile.

\- Why were you out of the Space Marine for so long? The others soldiers, they say you retired for years, and then came back... I'm sorry if this is a personal question, he added hurriedly.

As a matter of fact, Fenton was a complete newbie; he had only been on ship for one year, when the First Lieutenant had been sailing and fighting since he was seventeen, making him a sailor of around fourteen years now. The novice, not knowing anything at first, still had a lot to learn about the inner workings and drama of the Space Marine in spite of the rumors that went around wildly on the ship. On his second day he already knew everything about the First Lieutenant's past. He knew he was the nephew of the very infamous Scrooge McDuck, he knew what had happened to his eye, he knew almost all there was to know.

Fenton had then happened to know Donald had been leaving the Space Marine for a few years; way before Fenton himself became a recruit.

\- No, it's fine. Well, let's say I had other priorities... I have three nephews in my care, and they were babies at that time, so I tended to them. Now that they have grown up a bit, they can wait for me while I'm off on missions.

Fenton observed with bewilderment the sparkle in his superior's eyes and the smile that had arisen on his face. It was moving to see how talking about his nephews had really changed the usually cold Lieutenant. This conversation felt like he was discovering a new person. But he was still so admirative of him. Even more, maybe.

Donald seemed to realize he was being openly nostalgic and a little too much personal in front of a sailor, a simple Private. He frowned again and went back to studying his maps without a word.

A shrill noise caught Fenton's attention: the radar had detected something approaching them.

\- Damn, it's a- It's a ship! Well, i think so... It's so big... he muttered, gaze trained to the radar, unable to believe his own eyes.

In a jump, Donald was at his shoulder, staring down at the screen of the radar.

\- Cant be another Space Marine ship, murmured the First Lieutenant. They would have sent us a signal. That can only mean one thing...

Fenton swallowed his saliva, slowly understanding what the little red point on the radar was.

\- We'd need confirmation, added Donald, but we'd better prepare our weapons. Let's raise the alert.

He turned on the microphone, calmly announcing to the entire crew that a pirate ship was dangerously approaching theirs. They had to take advantage and arrest them. He grasped his sword and put it in his scabbard, then patted Fenton on the shoulder.

\- We'll train another time, I guess. Don't do anything stupid, alright? You know Privates don't get to take out their swords yet.

He left the room, soon followed by Fenton, but he stopped right away on the threshold, gazing up at the sky, a habit from his time living on solid ground that he never really abandoned. Yet the boundless black sky was everywhere around them, an abyss of stars and constellations over his head. Something was passing over the stars; the distinctive shape of a ship's wooden hull. As the ship got closer and more identifiable, Fenton forgot how to breathe. In the corner of his vision, he saw that Donald was frozen as well.

Donald would have recognized this ship amongst thousands.

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 **That's it for the first chapter! Are you excited? (because i sure am) (also shippers of fentonald welcome take a seat, you might see little hints sometimes)**

 **More will be coming very soon! So stay tuned!  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Welcome back to The Golden Dawn! Today's chapter is brought to you by the joys of _moving to another house and thus having no time and strength to write_. But hopefully I can count on Lu to correct my mistakes - and oh boy are there mistakes.**

 **By now you should know the space au, so let's just roll with it. If you want to check our tumblrs, it's _cirilee_ for the creator of the au, _insomniz_ for me and _draaaaaagoooooons_ (6 "a"s and 6 "o"s) for the corrector!**

 **Without further ado, please enjoy the Chapter 2!  
**

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"Dewey, stop showing off, you're gonna make us tip over!"

Despite his brothers warnings, the blue-clad little boy made no move to get back onto the deck. One end of a rope was secured around his waist while the other end was tied to the mast of their little boat, allowing him to step on the vertical side of hull and let himself fall into the void, still tied to the boat. He even went so far as to hop around on the side of the hull, almost floating off into space.

"Relax, Huey," he replied with an amused smile. "Louie's strategically placed to balance out my weight."

The little boy dressed in green was indeed. His feet were planted on the other side of the hull, his posture relaxed in the loop of the rope that was keeping him from tumbling out of their ship's gravitational field. Unlike his bigger brother, Louie wasn't jumping around. He was absorbed in his gameboy, which he had altered with a battery of electronical devices. The built-in radar he had added allowed him to detect approaching ships, portrayed on his screen as video games enemies. But right now it was more likely he was chatting on social networks, since his thumbs were flying on his screen at the speed of light - his gameboy truly was multi-tasks.

"But Louie isn't jumping!" insisted Huey in a self-important tone.

What a responsible killjoy Huey could be! It pissed Dewey off. Sometimes, his eldest of three seconds really could take his role too seriously. And what if the boat turned over? Their Unca' Donald wouldn't knowany of it. And if Huey was afraid of what their uncle would say their uncle's reaction, he shouldn't have agreed on taking their boat out in the first place.

They were used to Unca' Donald's tantrums by now. It had gotten even worse since he had returned to the Space Marine. The discipline he had to enforce in the Marine sometimes led him to be stern and severe with his nephews. And if that wasn't enough, their uncle was overprotective. Coming home after a long and lonely mission should be an occasion to relax a bit. But there was no way around it: he seemed even more stressed out, imagining unforeseen dangers in all situations. He wouldn't let them come with him on the Space Marine ship, he wouldn't let them sail on their own, he wouldn't let them have fun, really.

Yet the triplets respected the rules he set... They always wore the oxygen mask that allowed them to breathe correctly, never forgot their safety jackets when they sailed, and were precautious not to get close to pirate-dwelling areas. But Unca' Donald just didn't seem to trust them enough.

That pissed Dewey off too. Unca' Donald had bought them a little boat that couldn't even go fast, what was the point if not to use it? So they sailed alone, when they were sure he wouldn't notice or know it. And they had the time of their life while sailing. It was in their blood, just like their uncle.

Dewey loved the funny sensation in his belly when they took off, he loved seeing the constellations, he loved manipulating the main and jib sails. And he loved the adventures they had the opportunity to experience, all three of them. They stayed out of the _pirate area_ _alright, but_ with their telescope, they could observe the action from far away.

The little boy in his blue coat couldn't help but dream away when he saw battles between pirates and cops. He dreamed about being a pirate. He knew Huey and Louie felt the same. And most of all, he knew this dream had to stay a secret.

If Unca' Donald discovered that his nephews fantasized about becoming his literal enemies, the criminals he had dedicated his life to fighting, he would be beyond mad. Dewey really didn't want to think about what his uncle's reaction would be; they'd probably be forbidden to leave the house until they died of old age or went crazy with boredom.

Right now, he'd much rather imagining that he was a pirate, the most famous pirate in the universe, with a golden ship and he lived a life of adventures.

"Faster, Captain Huey!"

"I'm at the tiller. If you want us to go faster, untie yourself and take the sail."

"WAIT!"

Huey and Dewey turned simultaneously to Louie, who was staring at his gameboy with a frown.

"There's something approaching, but I don't know what it is... It's almost too fast for my radar..."

"Could it be an asteroid?"

"Or a comet?" Louie wondered, trying to identify the object on his screen.

Huey was strangely silent, squinting in the direction the object was supposedly coming from. Dewey saw him blink fast, at least twice, visibly surprised by something. Then, Dewey saw it. Or rather, he heard it. It made an awful noise: much like a siren, shrill and acute, but really short.

Dewey knew that sound. He knew it, but just couldn't put a word on it.

The _something_ was rushing towards them and didn't seem to slow down as it was getting closer, too close. It appeared to have the firm intention to crash into their boat, or at least into their sail.

"Hold on to the ship!" Shouted Huey, gripping the tiller.

"Wha-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

Dewey didn't even have time to try and grab the railing to get back into the boat before Huey propelled their ship to the left in a turn so sharp it overturned them completely. Dewey felt himself fall backwards for a few heart-stopping, terrifying moments, but the rope tied around his waist held him back at the last second. Trembling, he clutched at the rope to get back to the overturned ship. The object passing over their boat emitted an even worse sound, almost piercing space.

He spotted Huey, hidden behind the ship and gripping onto the sail as tightly he could. There was nothing else keeping him back from tumbling head first into the void if he let go. Dewey was petrified with fear that Huey could let go.

"Are you guys alright?" he called out in an unsteady voice.

A weak "Um yeah, I think so..." came from the other side of the boat, where Louie was, held back by the rope as well.

"We're fine," Huey replied, between gritted teeth. "We're all fine. Just gotta... Turn the boat back over."

"What was that?"

"I don't know... It was so fast that I couldn't see what it was. It could have teared our sail off."

"It's coming back!" Louie yelled. "Lower! We gotta-"

He couldn't even finish his sentence the terrible sound rang once again.

"Huey, turn over!"

But this time, the little boy didn't have enough time to manoeuver, using all of his strength to turn the boat again. Dewey screamed in pure fear when he realized the object was as big as their boat and was dashing towards them. He heard Louie scream at the top of his lungs as well.

It was no unidentified object that came directly rushing into their hull; it was a one-person-boat. Right before impact though, the boat somehow slowed down all at once so that their hulls didn't crash into each other. The bow of the foreign ship just knocked gently into the boys', making it sway a bit.

Then, Dewey heard a _snap_. His heart dropped to his stomach.

He heard his little brother yell in panicand understood: Louie's rope had given way when the other boat had finished its course into their hull. But before he could even try to contort to see where Louie was, the person in the other boat spun a lasso over their head, focusing on their target, then threw it below both boats. It seemed to have caught onto something as the mysterious silhouette, hooded in a purple coat, struggled to maintain themselves on their boat while hoisting their prey.

Said prey revealed itself to be Louie, still clutching his gameboy in his hands like a mother would hold a precious baby.

Dewey breathed again when he saw his brother being dropped into the boat like cattle, released from the noose of the lasso. The person was as tall as Louie, Dewey noticed. Could it be a kid? The little boy couldn't discern their face as it was hidden in their own shadow.

The boat looked a bit like their own, only it seemed to have been more used. The hull was in bad shape, appearing to have crashed in other boats before and the sails had tears in it. But what definitely caught Dewey's eyes was the engine of the boat. It seemed powerful enough to actually make the boat reach hyper-speed. That was why it made that deafening sound! The little boy in blue understood now.

But he had never seen anyone at school with such an engine or a boat in such poor condition. Either this kid was traveller and came from very far away, or they didn't go to school for some reason.

"Thanks," Dewey heard his brother say to the person that had just saved him after having put them in danger.

"No prob'."

"I have a question, though: why would you attack us like that?"

But only then, Dewey looked up at the mast of the suspicious boat.

Black flag. Entirely black.

For two seconds that felt eternity, his mind raced with Unca' Donald's warnings about pirates. _They're dangerous. They're merciless. They will kill you,_ _and it don_ _'t matter to them whether_ _you're child or not._

"Louie! Come back now!" He shouted, grabbing onto the hull to climb back into the boat.

The little boy turned towards him.

"What? Why?" He said at the same time as Huey did, still grabbing onto the sail.

Immediately, the little pirate, still hidden under their hood put their hand on Louie's shoulder, as if they wanted to stop him.

"You will do no such thing," replied a somewhat squeaky voice.

A girl's voice. Louie seemed to have noticed as well, but he made no move to get away.

"Because you are all my prisoners," she said, raising a colt to Louie's temple with one hand, pulling back her hood to reveal her face.

* * *

 **You can call "Evil queen of cliffhangers" because that's my favourite thing**

 **If you enjoyed leave a review! I'm also always glad to receive some criticism!**

 **Chapter 3 is on its way and seriously brace yourself we're going into some rollercoaster**


	3. Chapter 3

**Guess what? Ducktales is close to airing and The Golden Dawn is back with its third chapter! This time, the story and the action really begin.**

 **I'd like to thank you all who are so inspired by the au and the fanfiction in your fanarts, your headcanon, your reviews! It's super sweet! I feel blessed to see people that are excited to read it or to create on this universe. So thank you again!**

 **(Before I leave you with the chapter, I'd like to thank ONCE again _Lu_ , _draaaaaagoooooons_ on tumblr, because they're doing an amazing job at correcting the fanfic)**

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When the Gabbiano's crew prepared for a battle, the Space Marine ship was nothing but chaos. Everybody was running in all directions, loading their weapons, grabbing their swords. Orders were shouted, impossible to understand fully in the bustle. The atmosphere was frantic; the scents of fear and excitation mingling. Adrenaline pumped through the space sailors' veins, running through their blood.

They knew a single mistake could cost them their life. They knew they couldn't show weakness. The responsability of protecting the lives of hundreds of innocent citizens rested on their shoulders.

This burst of pressure had become a customary experience for Donald. He didn't mind the pandemonium that agitated their ship, found it soothing, even. He was chaos himself, had been for years. He kept his inside turmoil of rage and grief trapped behind a measured appearance. Fighting was a way to forget about the constant tremors of his emotions for a while.

He lived for that swift noise of his sword sliding out of its scabbard. For the violence of the iron clashing and clinking against iron. For the look of fear that shivered in his enemies' eyes when they caught sight of him.

But most of all, he lived for the reassured looks in his nephews' blue eyes when he was back home after missions. For their smiles and laughs. He lived to protect them.

He thought about them every time he readied himself for battle. It gave him courage. It stopped his weak body's quivering. It made his arms stronger, his grip on his sword and shield tighter. He needed this rush of adrenaline and confidence. Especially today.

"It's the Golden Dawn!" Yelled a voice outside of his cabin. "Everyone, draw your weapons!"

Donald Duck gritted his teeth. _The Golden Dawn._

 _Scrooge McDuck's damned ship._

Rumors had it that the entire ship was made of gold.

That the mermaid on its bow was a real mermaid, changed into a golden statue by the cursed touch of Midas that Scrooge possessed.

That Scrooge had so many treasures that he had melted his loot into a ship, the only golden boat of the universe.

That he called it _the Golden Dawn_ because it was often mistaken for the Sun, shining so bright it dazzled of his enemies.

That the First Lieutenant of _the Gabbiano_ himself had gone blind from looking too long at the Sun when he tried to devise mad plans to steal the star itself.

But Donald Duck knew just how much bullshit these rumors were, and this last one in particular. The brainless sailors that propagated these lies didn't know anything about Scrooge McDuck. Donald, on the other hand, knew him by heart.

His easily impressed, rumor-spreading crewmen had never met him in person. But right now, they were about to.

Donald exited his cabin, his sword already in hand, and looked up to the ship that was quietly floating, hovering like a threat, over _the Gabbiano_. That was pure provocation. A normal pirate ship would never make such an idiot move, except if they intended to make it their last trip.

Scrooge McDuck, however, was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. This wasn't the first time he taunted his nephew, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Yet it had been quite some time since the last time they'd seen each other. Several years, to be more specific. They didn't even talk to each other; the mere sight of Scrooge disguted Donald.

He didn't want to see him, nor did he want to talk to him. Just thinking about this bloody pirate infuriated him. Him and his little smirk! Always so confident, proud and teasing...

Maybe the worst thing of all was that Donald had once admired this bloodthirsty pirate.

Back when Scrooge had been a Lieutenant himself.

Back when Donald was a little boy, like the triplets.

Back when everything was just fine. He had even considered him more than an uncle. A guardian. A support. A role model. A father.

But now he was nothing more to him than a name and a picture on a wanted poster.

He was the source of his nightmares.

He was a fading memory of a long-gone, cherished past.

He was the one who had robbed him of his left-eye, and abandoned him afterwards.

There was no way in hell he would do him the favor of acknowledging him.

If he did, it would be to fight. And Donald knew that this day had finally come.

The First Lieutenant couldn't stare at the ship and imagine Scrooge on the deck without feeling his blood boil. But _the Golden Dawn_ looked like a ghost ship, just drifting in the sky with no one on deck. Then, without a warning, the ship shifted her course and lowered her fore part directly at _the Gabbiano_. Donald couldn't help but open an agape mouth.

The crew of the Golden Dawn had definitely lost their mind.

Scrooge wanted to scare him. Well, that was definitely not going to work. Donald was going to join in on his little game.

"Nervous, aren't you?"

Donald jumped, startled as he thought he was alone. But an icy artificial look was hovering over his shoulder.

"You're definitely scared."

"Please don't start with this."

His A.I. studied him for a moment, examining every inch of his body with calculating eyes. The way D.A.I.S.I., or Daisy for short, could tell almighty truths with a stoic and impassive stare never stopped annoying him.

"You're shaking, Don'."

He tried to ignore the robot and didn't tear his gaze from the hull of _the Golden Dawn_. It wasn't all golden, after all. Only a few adornments carved into the wood and were covered in gold foil. But with its extravagant sculpting and imposing stature, it was truly stunning and spectular.

Ropes had already been thrown along the hull of the Golden Dawn. The first wave of pirates was coming, and when the main deck's flooring shook a little under impact as they landed heavily.

There was no time for arguing with Daisy. The first of his men already collided against the pirates. But Donald couldn't concentrate on what was happening just in front of him.

"The great Scrooge McDuck dares attack his nephew's ship! What are you planning to do?"

Damn, she wasn't going to shut up. Donald didn't want to see his AI's little smirk today, nor hear her mocking him as always.

"Shove you into a closet and maybe then, I could start thinking of a plan," he replied, not amused by the way her questions were loaded with irony.

"Speaking of closet..." she began.

Donald could imagine her smile simply by the tone of her voice.

"Isn't that little Private Crackshell cute?"

"Wha- What?"

"Yeah, look at him, handling a sword like it's his first time."

Incredulous, Donald turned to see, only a few feet away from him, the latino rookie with whom he had just talked, drawing his sword awkwardly towards a pirate who was rushing directly in his direction.

 _Shit,_ Donald thought. _He's not going survive the first seconds._

The First Lieutenant jumped over the railing and bolted towards Fenton who was beginning to back off against the wall where the pirate had pushed him. The space criminal seemed to anticipate every single one of his moves, returning them violently. Thankfully, Donald's sword caught his blade right before it met Fenton's fragile armor.

He heard the pirate groan under the effort of stopping the Lieutenant's sword from cutting him in two halves. Donald sent him swinging, not hurting him so he could be warned not to play with a Space Marine's Lieutenant.

Then he turned to Fenton, who was standing motionless except for the quivers that shook his hands.

"You- You saved me..."

"I did."

Donald would gladly have thrown a tantrum, telling Fenton off for not respecting his orders and trying to fight pirates. But there was one-on-one battles were beginning to dangerously surround them.

"Now you're going to listen to me and do exactly as I say."

The blond space sailor grabbed the stockroom's door and Fenton's arm at the same time. He swung the door open and shoved the latino sailor into the room, locking it right away.

"What are-"

"Just making sure you're safe. Don't make a sound. I'll come back later to unlock the door."

Then Donald dashed back into the heart of the fight, sword still gripped in his hand. He had to find a way to get onto _the Golden Dawn_. He hadn't seen Scrooge getting off his ship to attack _the Gabbiano_. That cowardly bastard. He didn't have the courage to get over here and be the Captain he claimed he was. Just waiting for the battle to end, safe and well in his own cabin.

The perspective made Donald furious.

He moved quickly, trying to avoid the blades that cut through the air. He had one idea in mind: get on the ship and beat Scrooge's ass. But dodging swords swinging restlessly from all directions was beginning to get more and more difficult.

"Daisy!" He shouted as he progressed through the crowd of space pirates and sailors, "get _the Gabbiano_ closer to-"

A wave of pain suddenly seared his back, cutting his sentence short. Not only had it interrupted him, but it also made him break his nimble race across the deck. It was like if he'd been whipped.

He was hustled so violently in the mess and confusion of the fight that he couldn't help but fall backwards.

He was no stranger to pain and injuries. His scars were testimonies, especially the one zigzagging on his left cheek. Battles could hurt, and he never wore any armor. Thus, he knew very well how to assess the pain and determine if it was severe or not. Right now, it seemed it was mild, insignificant even. The blade that had hit him must have only cut through his mantle. Maybe touched his skin a little. Nothing to worry about.

"Need a little help?"

Donald raised his eye to where the voice came from and his glance met a sailor in armor, a plain sailor that seemed to be an enlisted Corporal. He was outstretching his left hand towards him, smiling, maybe slightly amused to see his superior in such a pitiful position.

"Thanks," grunted the First Lieutenant, catching his hand to propell himself back on his feet.

But something caught his attention; a sword's scabbard hung under the Corporal's left arm. That meant he was right-handed. But he was offering him his left hand...

"I'm sorry," the Corporal said softly, "but orders are orders."

Before Donald could even understand what it all meant, his abdomen flared with agonizing pain. It was so sudden and so fierce that it made his breath catch in his lungs.

He had been caught off guard as he hadn't even seen the sailor taking out his iron blade with his right hand. He couldn't even scream.

When the sailor pulled out his sword, Donald fell back to the ground, unable to keep a semblance of balance this time. He didn't even feel the shock of his head meeting the floor again. All he could feel was the overwhelming pain that possessed his burning abdomen.

In the corner of his eye, he saw the Corporal put his small sword back into his scabbard without even wiping the blood off, then disappear far away in the crowd.

Lowering his eye, Donald tried to focus, but his vision was getting blurry and all he could see was a reddish stain widening where the sailor had stabbed him.

He had stabbed him in the stomach. The worst place possible to be stabbed. Now he was going to bleed out if he did nothing to stop the flow of blood...

But Donald was barely able to think straight. So getting up to find help was definitely not an option.

He could smell that metallic and repulsive scent, the tang of blood. It made him were rising upon everything around his surroundings.

He tried to gauge the loss of blood, which had to be quite considerable as vertigo was now making his head spin despite the fact that he was lying on the floor.

As he was struggling to stay awake against the numbness in all of his body, he could only concentrate on the thoughts of his nephews. _Huey, Dewey and Louie._

The last thing he saw before darkness engulfed him was a tall figure approaching him before coming to an ominous still at his feet.

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 **:)))) stay tuned for the next chapter bye ily**

 **Or how to escape when you just finished a chapter on a BIG cliffhanger.**


	4. Chapter 4

**guess what**

 **yES it's ya gurl baguette back for another chapter!**

 **But seriously, sorry for keeping you waiting for so long. (and also sorry about the cliffhanger...) I just got into a new french school that's been draining all my writing time. Somehow I managed to get back on track and write Chapter 4! i hope y'all will like it because i had fun writing it.**

 **This Chapter was not reviewed by my friend Lu to be corrected, so it may contain some mistakes or be more painful to read... i hope not 3**

 **Enjoy!**

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Although it was dreamless, his sleep was not peaceful. It was not blissful. It was like he had been drugged into sleep and he hated it. He wasn't even sure he was sleeping, most of the time.

Donald did not understand what was happening to him. He could only perceive pain in his whole body, but if he concentrated enough, he could feel it in his abdomen, a flame that refused to be tamed. Never in his life had he felt such pain.

 _Sharp. Lingering._

He could do nothing but embrace it. When he fought it, he was always the one who lost.

The space sailor was in a state of semi-consciousness that allowed him to hear muffled words around him, to feel he was being touched sometimes, but he couldn't move or even try to do something. And damn was it frustrating, because he was sure to hear voices he knew.

Sometimes names would appear and shake his mind : Huey, Dewey and Louie. They would wipe away everything else and leave him in a panicked state. _I have to wake up and find them,_ would be his only thought.

Two voices often came through the veil that seemed to have been put over his ears. There was a feminine, reassuring voice, most of the time, when he was touched. She brought comfort and she brought bandages, he knew it because he had already been bandaged before. Her touch was careful, kind, mother-like.

But it wasn't his mother. His mother had passed away long ago, and his father too. That voice, nevertheless, reminded him of pleasant memories of her.

She spoke to him when she was cleaning his wounds, and listening to that voice felt nice, even if he barely understood what she was saying.

The other voice was the voice of a man. This one was less present and only hovered over him from times to times. But Donald knew, deep inside of him, who that voice belonged to. He was although too tired and in pain to try to put a name on that voice. He preferred to associate it with feelings.

And when he heard this rough voice, all he felt was a mix of pain, sadness and anger. He couldn't explain it.

That voice must have hurt him in the past, and it was worse now to hear it so close to him. He brought memories and he brought anger. Donald felt his heart beat faster when he heard him. Without knowing precisely why, he wanted to wake up just to punch that voice.

Yet everytime he seemed to gain consciousness, he immediately sunk back deeper into this dreamless sleep he hated. It was like drowning in tar.

Drowing in pain. Drowning in thoughts. Drowning in memories.

 _Was he drowning in blood? It was likely. The smell was overwhelming. Everything was chaos and he was just floating in it, barely conscious. He was just trying to grip onto something. That something was the image of his nephews in his mind. He felt that if he ever let go of it, he was going to drift away, too far. Out of time and out of space. Die, maybe._

 _Not that he could care, the pain was too intense and sharp for him to clearly understand what dying meant._

 _He couldn't open his eye. Could just hear distant noises. Chaos. He could hear chaos._

 _He had been stabbed only a few minutes ago. He knew that._

 _Then he spoke to him. He was a familiar voice, but an old voice. Rough, bringing back many memories._

 _It became more and more loud as he was approaching him._

 _Worried. Panicked. Trembling._

"Oh shit... Fuck..."

 _Donald was not used to hear the voice say these words. To actually sound frightened._

 _A strange noise informed Donald that the voice had teared open his shirt._

 _Though his touch was extremely careful, on his wound, on his chest. Was he looking for something? A beat, maybe. A pulse. A heart._

 _Worried. Panicked. Trembling. Gripping on his clothes. On his skin._

 _Donald's thoughts were mixed up again. He felt nauseous._

 _He would have liked to be able to do something to reassure the voice, but he was drowning in his own pulse. He tried to concentrate on the voice to understand what he was saying to him._

"Com'on, nephew, don't die on me, alright?"

 _Nephew. Now that was a name he hadn't been called in a long time._

 _Again, his touch on his wound. Fatherly. Kind. Patient._

 _It definitely hurt, but in a good way, and Donald appreciated the presence even though he understood half of his sentences. He felt less lonely in his own mind._

"Help me... Help me get him up."

"Captain, - loss of time, -bleeding - !"

 _Another voice. Unknown to him this time, and he could hear half of the words._

"I swear if you don't- you to the intergalactic sharks, ya hear me?!"

 _Fury. Impatience. Then it all became quiet again, calm._

"There. I'm going to - might hurt a little."

 _Then he felt he was being lifted. Where was he taken? Who had taken him? He began to feel fearful about what was happening around him. Pain shot again in his abdomen and in his back, but he felt he had to fight really hard not to drown completely._

 _Fight for someone? Impossible, everyone had abandoned him._

 _Everyone?_

 _Huey._

 _Dewey._

 _Louie._

 _Fight it. Fight it. Ignore the pain. Wake up!_

He awoke in a jolt, and blinked because of the sudden light his eye hadn't seen in a long time. He was sitting ; it was different from when he was semi-conscious. He was more comfortable back then. Maybe in a bed. Now he could feel a throbbing pain in his abdomen. It was a little better than before, though.

"Where...?"

His throat was dry, and speaking still hard. His eyes found soon enough how to adapt to light again. The silhouette became a man.

Donald felt his heart drop when he recognized the only spectacle, the white beard that grew randomly where it could, the pirate hat, the self-sufficient smirk.

His face turned instantly pale. _Scrooge McDuck._

It had been such a long time since he had seen him for the last time. A long, happy time. He prayed to never cross paths with him again, and here he was, right in front of him.

"Sleeping Beauty finally decided te wake up," the old man in front of him said, smiling aggressively.

Still a bit disoriented and in a daze, all anger in him came to a burst, and Donald gritted his teeth:

"You motherf-"

"Easy, nephew, easy. There are young ears on this boat."

 _On this boat_. Of course. Donald was on the Golden Dawn, Scrooge's ship.

"It's Lieutenant Duck to you, pirate," Donald spat back, his eyes throwing lightnings.

Despise could be read in the way he had pronounced "pirate".

"Don't you remember your good ol' Unk', eh lad?"

Impulsive, Donald tried to launch himself onto the bloody pirate to take him by the collar. Only then he realized he was firmly attached. The ropes wouldn't let him make a single move.

He lowered his eyes. He was only covered by his own coat, stained with dried blood, but underneath, there were just bandages on his torso and abdomen. Someone had taken care of his wounds. The feminine voice?

He was held hostage, but they had taken good care of him. Why? To make sure he wouldn't die before being given back?

"Oh, I remember you well," Donald said while taking a rasp breath. "Everytime I see myself in the mirror, I remember your old face."

"Damn, nephew, I didn't know we were so alike," Scrooge replied while taking his relative's chin in his hand, examining his face.

Donald was repelled at his uncle's touch. He couldn't bare to know these murderer's hands were touching his face. And he hated to know that it was true they were alike.

He knew the way Scrooge called him «nephew» was to mock and play with him. But he wasn't sure he'd ever call him «uncle» again.

The young space sailor released his head from Scrooge's grip in a swift movement. He wanted to spat at his face, erase his malicious grin.

Oh, how proud he must have been, a space pirate that held captive a Lieutenant, his own nephew! His own nephew he had once disfigured.

Then, Donald remembered some slight details.

"The Gabbiano... Where is it? Where is my crew?"

"Finally ye come to yer senses... Ya've always been a little slow, lad, even of the sword."

The remark hurt Donald more than it was supposed to. He avoided Scrooge's glance, knowing fully well he was observing his bandages.

"Sorry to be the one to tell ye that, but they didn't come to yer rescue," the pirate continued. "We'll be forced to find them to give ya back to "yer dear family"."

"How kind of you," Donald muttered, still avoiding his look.

"Except if ye decided ta join yer real family..." Scrooge tempted. "Then we could maybe forget your past as a Space Marine Lieutenant."

"If you mean by becoming a bloody pirate, you can still dream."

"Oh, ya don't know what ye're missing, nephew. The life in the Space Marine must be dull as hell. I know ye secretly admire yer sister and I for having left this hellhole."

If Donald hadn't been tightly attached to his chair, he would have jumped to Scrooge's throat. But the simple movement against the ropes was setting his abdomen on fire. He was probably bleeding again. He didn't care. He was trembling because of the overwhelming fury in his veins.

"And what's that fancy napkin ye've got here?"

Donald's heart stopped beating.

Scrooge fiddled absent-mindedly with his nephew's eye patch for a bit.

"Don't you touch it," Donald grunted in a threatening tone.

"Or else?"

"Don't."

It sounded almost like a pained plea. Donald's lips were quivering, but Scrooge couldn't seem to understand why. From anger? Fear? Pain?

He ripped the eye patch off, discovering a scar that went from Donald's eyebrow to his cheek, crossing his eye he kept shamingly closed. The old pirate opened his mouth, but no words came out of it. Only surprised silence.

Then he saw his nephew inhale and open his eyes again. The right one was perfectly normal and glared at Scrooge with hatred and defiance. The left one looked without seeing. Its eye pupil and iris were a bluish white, scarred too. It was only the ghost of an eye.

It was blind, realized Scrooge who couldn't catch his breath.

Realization hit Scrooge as he was swept back into some unpleasant memories. He shook his head to get rid of the screams that filled it.

"Your wound is bleeding again. I'll get Mrs. Beakley to change your bandages. Try not to move too much."

He left the room without a word. He was trying really hard to ignore the fact he had seen tears in his nephew's eyes after he had ripped off his eye patch.

 _But by the stars did it hurt._

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 **That's it for this chapter! Did you like it? Or did you hate me even more? Leave a review if so, I'm always super glad to hear what you thought about it! (and I love receiving death threats)**


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